


sweaty bodies, sticky sheets

by ProfessorSpork



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2019-08-24 00:33:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16629440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorSpork/pseuds/ProfessorSpork
Summary: A ~hot night indeed in the Tyler household.





	sweaty bodies, sticky sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Butters Many Parsnips Billie Piper ficathon; originally posted to Livejournal May 5, 2010.
> 
> Prompt: Rose/Ten II + heat

"Gerroff."  
  
A rustle of sheets. "What?"  
  
"No, honestly, get OFF—"  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You  _kicked_  me!"  
  
"Sorry! It's just... it's too hot."  
  
In general, Rose Tyler would say that she quite likes her life.   
  
She has more money now than she'd ever dreamed of having back on the Estate. She has her mother and, miraculously, her father, and they live in a mansion with her adorable baby brother. She has a job she adores—a job that's challenging and rewarding and fun—and a husband-y... boyfriendish... person... thing... to come home to and give her a solid cuddling on those days when it's not so fun after all.  
  
Tonight, however, is not "in general." Tonight is August 14th, their air conditioning is broken, and their ceiling fan isn't so much blowing a breeze as it is turning the humid air in half-hearted circles around the room like a bunch of secondary students forced to walk laps in P.E.  
  
The Doctor lays one cautious hand on the small of Rose's back.   
  
"Touch me and I will  _punch you in the face._ "  
  
...and removes it.  
  
"Is something wrong?" he asks quietly.  
  
She buries her face in her pillow in a pathetic attempt to smother herself. "Doctor. It is about a thousand degrees in here, yeah? I'm tired, and I'm sweaty, and the sheets are clingy enough without anythin' else touching me. Even you. I'm sorry. Please, try to let me sleep?"  
  
He considers this a moment. "You were never touchy about... touching... before," he mutters petulantly.  
  
"That's because you weren't part  _human_  before, but now..."  
  
He looks as though she's just strangled a baby panda bear in front of him, she sucks in a breath.  
  
"No, Doctor, that's not what I—"  
  
"That's okay," he says mechanically, rising from their bed. "I'll just... couch."  
  
She reaches out to grab his wrist, but he's too quick for her—across the room and down the hall like a ghost before she can catch him.  
  
For a moment, she sits in silence.  
  
"Right," she says to no one. She looks down at herself—stripped to her vest and knickers—and fights back the sudden, irrational urge to cry. Instead she kicks off her twisted sheets in frustration and gets up, mentally cursing her heat-addled brain. "Right," she repeats, more determined this time, "this has got to be the least sexy reason for a cold shower in the history of the world."

* * *

The Doctor awakes to the sensation of water droplets falling on his face.  
  
"Are you still mad at me?" Rose whispers quietly in the dark, her damp hair framing her face as she leans over him.  
  
Still fuzzy from sleep and dizzy from her soap-and-shampoo smell, he struggles to remember why he'd be mad at her in the first place. He gives a non-committal "gyuh?" to buy himself time.  
  
"Thought so." She kneels next to the couch, and slips her hand into his. "M'sorry about earlier," she murmurs. "I was just... it doesn't matter. Come back to bed?"  
  
Bed. Right. Yes. Bed sounded like a capital idea. "Mmmrf," he agrees, and pulls her forward so that she stumbles and falls on top of him, her head on his chest.  
  
"What, here?" she laughs, not exactly fighting him.  
  
"Hmmm," he says, and promptly falls back asleep.  
  
"Well okay then," she grins, and it's not long before she finally drifts off herself.


End file.
